


The Forgotten Faces of the Lost Children

by the_unicorn_empress



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Season 2 Finale, And also Nicole's, Cult of Bulshar, F/F, F/M, Post- finale, Season 2, WIP, Wayhaught - Freeform, Work In Progress, eventual delving into Waverly's parental heritage, supernatural!Nicole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-18 07:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12383961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_unicorn_empress/pseuds/the_unicorn_empress
Summary: ”I did it,” Bobo laughed maniacally, his gaze glossy and far off. Utterly proud of his genius. “I did it, Doc.”“What did you do, Bobo?!” Doc snarled, appearing as if he were ready to gut the demon. His mustache quivered in rage and he balled his fists against his sides to avoid from giving in to the temptation of strangling Del Rey. “Bobo, I swear if you-”“I promised him a bride, Doc.” Bobo explained giddily, sounding almost like a three year-old on Christmas morning. “For his heir, Doc.”Doc decided to ask the obvious question anyway.“Whomare you speaking of, Bobo?”“Bulshar,” Bobo replied, giggling suddenly. “I gifted him with my sweet angel Waverly as bride. It was the only way to protect us.”





	1. What Did You Sing to that Lonely Child?

**Author's Note:**

> WIP. Post season 2 finale AU. Read it and give it a try, if I say more than that, I'd be spoiling my idea.
> 
> (I do not own anything mentioned here.)

”I did it,” Bobo laughed maniacally, his gaze glossy and far off. Utterly proud of his genius. “I did it, Doc.”

“What did you do, Bobo?!” Doc snarled, appearing as if he were ready to gut the demon. His mustache quivered in rage and he balled his fists against his sides to avoid from giving in to the temptation of strangling Del Rey. “Bobo, I swear if you-”

“I promised him a bride, Doc.” Bobo explained giddily, sounding almost like a three year-old on Christmas morning. “For his heir, Doc.”

Doc decided to ask the obvious question anyway.

“ _Whom_ are you speaking of, Bobo?”

“Bulshar,” Bobo replied, giggling suddenly. “I gifted him with my sweet angel Waverly. It was the only way to protect us.”

“You did _what,_ now?” Doc growled, murder shining clear as day in his eyes, he gritted his teeth, pulling his lip back in a snarl, “I swear, if you lay a finger on that girl, I will drag you across the line like I did with Levi and forget about you forever!”

“Don't worry, Doc. My angel is going to save us all.”

Just as Doc made to lunge for Bobo, Jeremy finished his call, waving for Doc.

“You,” Doc violently jabbed a finger in Bobo’s direction, “know that an Earp and a Holliday are hunting you down again for your foolishness. You'd best keep an eye over your shoulder and a vigilant state of mind if you ever get out of that damned well!”

“Wayhaught has the baby and are waiting to meet you at the rendezvous point- Wynonna wanted to let you say goodbye to her, Doc…”

Doc glanced at Jeremy and nodded, turning his heel quickly, clambering into his car. The engine roared to life loudly and Doc sped onto to the dirt road out of the old mining projects.

As he drove, he wondered just what the hell a Wayhaught was… kids these days.

  
  


  
  


About a week after the chaos that was the birth of baby Alice Michelle, Nicole sat next to Waverly on her couch, Calamity Jane nestled snugly in Waverly’s lap, her motorboat engine running loudly. She smirked, glad that the testy and distrustful creamsicle-colored feline took a vast liking to her girlfriend. How awkward would it be if she hissed and darted each time Waverly was present?

Nicole shook her head, shifting slightly and adjusted her arm wrapped around Waverly’s slender shoulders. As much as she enjoyed the silence, she knew she'd have to break it sometime in the near future.

“So…”

Waverly turned her attention from Calamity Jane slightly, looking up at Nicole. She ran her fingers gently over the cat's cheeks, earning an affectionate headbutt from Calamity.

“I noticed you're spending an awful lot of days at my house,” Nicole teased, giving Waverly’s shoulder a small, reassuring squeeze. She lowered her voice, husking in a light whisper, “Not that I don't mind your company… I'm just concerned for you, Wave.”

Waverly chewed at her bottom lip, staring down at Calamity Jane in worry. She glanced at Nicole before answering.

“I know…”

Nicole leaned in and grazed her nose across the side of Waverly’s temple, trailing soft kisses on the skin under her lips.

“As tempted as I am to keep you forever,” Nicole whispered huskily, smiling ruefully against Waverly’s temple, “you need to go back to the Homestead one of these days, baby. You need to be there when Wynonna returns. She's gonna need her wonderful baby sister's support after this.”

“It's so quiet there,” Waverly murmured thickly, raising one of her hands to her face, abandoning Calamity Jane's cuddle session. “I- I just can't stop thinking about everything when I'm there by myself. Dolls is working all the time because of Bobo’s deal… and I know Doc is poking his nose around, but he's also missing Alice and Wynonna- he acts like he's fine, but I know he's not- I'm not!”

Nicole pulled Waverly closer, ignoring Calamity’s offended meow and tail swish. She allowed Waverly to process her emotions a little longer before she verbalized them.

“And- and I know they're all trying to protect me, but I just feel shut out.” Waverly sighed, burying her face into the crook of Nicole’s neck, pausing as she mulled over what to say next. “And I know once Wynonna is back, I'll never be allowed to leave the Homestead without protection until Bulshar is gone. Ironic, isn't it, being surrounded all the time but feeling completely shut out?”

“Oh, baby,” Nicole chuckled, not to be mean, it was more of a default reaction to Waverly’s statement. “That's all I've ever felt since coming to Purgatory. Until I met you. You are a beautiful, glimmering light at the end of a winding dark tunnel, Waverly.”

Calamity Jane gave one more loud meow of protest, flicking her tail against Nicole in anger and jumped off of Waverly, gifting the brunette with one last loving headbutt against her shin before dramatically padding out of the living area.

“And see there, even Calamity doesn't like me.”

With Calamity gone, Nicole pulled Waverly into her lap, snaking her arms around Waverly’s torso. The brunette’s warm breath tickled Nicole’s collarbone, allowing goosebumps to prickle her skin.

“Oh, hush,” Waverly said with a giggle, batting Nicole’s shoulder lightly, and Nicole felt slightly better, “you should stop talking, everyone loves you… I love you.”

“I know,” Nicole nodded, smiling widely, “I love you too.”

Waverly pulled away slightly, locking her gaze with Nicole’s. She gazed at the redhead like she had multiple times before, words finally attached to the underlying emotion this time. She placed her hand delicately against Nicole’s cheek, tenderly stroking her flushed skin with a thumb. Her other hand wandered to Nicole’s jaw, softly caressing the skin there as well.

Nicole smiled down at Waverly, the corners of her eyes wrinkling happily. She rested her palms against the dip in Waverly’s back, curling her fingers around the hem of her shirt.

Nicole allowed herself to be pulled down, meeting Waverly’s warm lips softly, grinning slightly. She kissed her gently, enjoying the heat enveloping them.

"I love you so much, Waverly. Earp or not."

  
  


In the darkness of the cavern Bobo closed off a matter of weeks ago, a pale hand thrust forward amongst the rubble, searching for a way out. The hand made a swift motion, snatching a rat and yanking it back violently, a crunch of its small neck being snapped under the pressure of the demonic claws.

“This will have to do…”

After the demonic voice went silent again, a pair of large, glowing red eyes glared from their place beneath the rubble.

“I will find you, my child. You will make my powers greater than ever.”


	2. The Darkness Within

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okie dokie, here's chapter 2. Depending on how this story goes, I might change the rating to an 'M' later.

_She was there again. Cold. Frightened._

_”Don't worry, baby,” her mother had said, a soothing croon to the young girl, “your father picked me specifically to bear you, honey. You're a very special girl. You must do this task.”_

_”But Momma,” the girl whimpered, her bottom lip quivering in fear, “I- I'm scared.”_

_Her mother simply laughed, which would have been a comfort in any other situation._

_”Your father told me you need to do this. Do you want to anger him?”_

_”No, Momma,” the girl murmured, casting her eyes to the ground, “may… may I see the picture of him?”_

_“Of course, honey.” Her mother swiftly pulled a worn photo from her clutch, handing it over reverently to the child. “You look just like him, baby.”_

_The girl stared, the photograph was quite old, the edges wrinkling. A man of incredible stature stood in front of an oak tree- and she recognized it was the same tree that loomed outside of the commune- his hands at ease, clutching the front of his white suit jacket. The man stared back calmly, his eyes burning red, no emotion on his sharp face. His bright red hair was the most exciting part of the photo, her mother had once said. Her mother and other members of the commune often told her in reverence that she looked exactly like her father._

_”Are you ready to complete your father's task?”_

_”Yes, Momma,” the girl passed the photograph back to her mother, fear beginning to make her stomach flip again._

_“Good,” her mother said, tucking the photo back into her clutch. She grabbed the girl's hand and began to lead her to another room._

_They entered a small chamber, other members of the commune were already awaiting their presence, masked and robed. She watched her mother pull her own mask on as well, flinching back at the animal’s glossy eyes staring down at her in the dim candlelight._

_”Bulshar,” her mother started, bowing her head as she pulled a wicked-looking blade from her robes, “we come here tonight, to give you a sacrifice. Traitors to your cause, my Lord. We found these two so-called holy warriors. A couple. Their names are Alexander and Diana Webb. They were attempting to cleanse your grounds, Lord.”_

_Her mother handed her the blade, placing a firm hand on her shoulder._

_”As it is your will, Bulshar, the little one is to perform this sacrifice in your name.” her mother gazed at the couple tied upon the altar, sobbing through their gags, she stepped forward and pulled the gag from the woman's mouth. “Any last words? Will you ask Bulshar for forgiveness before he takes you?”_

_”Ple-please,” the woman cried loudly, struggling against her bonds, “we have a baby. A little girl back at our campsite. Jus-just take me. Let-let my husband go, pleas-”_

_Her mother yanked the gag back into place, scoffing._

_”Heathens,” her mother spat, taking her place within the circle of masked members, “show them the light.”_

_The girl's hand trembled as she raised it, the dagger almost tumbling from her grasp. She didn't want to do this. She couldn't kill this innocent couple. Tears began streaming down her cheeks and she hesitated, unsure of whether she should do this or not._

_”Nicole,” her mother boomed with a voice so unlike her usual tone that Nicole cried out in fear, “I command you to finish this right now!”_

_Eyes wide with terror, the child began to do as told, swiftly raising the blade as she tried to block out the couple's muffled screams of horror._

 

Nicole awoke shrieking at the top of her lungs, releasing a mangled howl of terror.

She quickly stumbled into her bathroom and heaved the previous contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl, choking out a strangled sob.

“O-oh my go-god,” Nicole sobbed, leaning over the bowl and heaving for a final time. “Oh m-my god…”

She unsteadily yanked a square of toilet paper and wiped her mouth with it. After tossing it into the toilet, she grabbed another square and blew her nose. She dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her sweatshirt sleeve, sniffling.

“I did not kill those people, I did not kill those people…” Nicole chanted in a broken voice, leaning over and flushing the contents down. “Just a nightmare from stress. Triggered by being reminded of the com- cult. The cult. That's what your therapist said.”

Nicole slowly pulled herself to trembling legs, leaning heavily against the sink. She stared at her hands for a minute before meeting her own gaze in the mirror. Her gaunt, haunted face stared back at her blankly. 

”She said that you may have witnessed those things as a child, but you didn't commit them…”

Her phone rang distantly in her bedroom and Nicole forced herself to walk back in and answer it.

She put on a falsely cheerful tone.

“Hey, baby, what's up?”

“Wynonna just came back, Nicole,” Waverly said, her voice tight with strain, she sounded like she locked herself in her bedroom and was trying not to cry with the volume of it, “she's back, Nicole.”

Nicole stood quietly for a moment, attempting to figure out what exactly was wrong.

“Is everything alright, Waverly?”

“No," Waverly sniffled suddenly, her voice sounding as broke as her own had merely minutes ago, “Wynonna… Wynonna brought our mother home, Nicole.”

_Oh._


	3. God's Gonna Trouble These Waters

_Blood. Everywhere. On her hands. Her clothes. She couldn't escape it. Couldn't stop the pumping stream caused by unfamiliar hands. Fire. Screaming. Wynonna being hung, but never making it in time to save her. The same burning, red eyes staring at her, full of mania, full of a twisted glee. The eyes somehow familiar, a sense of déjà vu sweeping over her as she was forced to stare back, a silent scream attempting to make its way to her mouth._

It's all that ever plagued her thoughts and dreams these days. Violence of the past. Memories of the demons that quite literally haunted her, twisting into something more. New fears. A pair of glowing red eyes. Taking the utmost glee from her suffering.

She didn't like these visions that were becoming a frequent pastime.

Waverly sighed, checking her appearance in the mirror with a final glance, her hollow, tired eyes peering in return sadly. She exited her room, her feet shuffling quietly over the carpet, still not quite over the most recent events occurring to the other residents of the Homestead.

Doc and Dolls were wedged on the couch together, actually getting along for once, engrossed in a game of poker, staying busy as they kept watch when Wynonna and her mother- good lord, what a foreign thought- weren't around to keep an eye out.

Despite having fathered Alice Michelle, Doc was always somewhat bristled during his interactions with Michelle Earp. He was most likely angered at her actions years ago, Waverly reasoned, the hurt her mother caused with her return. Old wounds reopening painfully for the sisters. It was safe to assume he probably didn't appreciate the fact she abandoned Wynonna and Waverly as children. Especially having knowledge of the family's inherited demonic affairs.

Dolls, on the other hand, kept to himself around the woman, fully reserved, no emotion, cold and indifferent to her presence. A quality Waverly only recently began to admire, greatly wishing she could learn to possess right now.

Waverly indeed felt wounded and thoroughly upset, the wounds continued deepening once she discovered Wynonna _knew_ where their mother had been all along and purposely withheld the information. However, she also saw smaller details, most definitely not blind to the fact that Michelle Earp was only a shell of her former self. A mask of the woman she used to be. Translucent smiles and false cheer. In a way, she was strongly reminded of how Wynonna looked when she had first returned home on her 27th birthday. Except, Wynonna had found a purpose again. Created a life and family. After Willa’s second death, she was hellbent on keeping her loved ones safe. Returning her life to the smallest glimpse of normalcy.

Now with Alice being born, Wynonna was an unstoppable whirlwind.

Waverly could only take solace in Nicole, whom she seldom talked to in the last week, the redhead busy at the station, recently confessed to feeling like a stranger in their current predicament. She could tell Nicole was uncomfortable with the thought of meeting her mother, being extremely furious on Waverly’s behalf of her past actions, but she was also capable of putting her anger aside to make sure that Waverly was reassured everything was her choice. If she asked Nicole to meet her mother, then she would. If she requested that she didn't, then Nicole wouldn't. If she wanted Nicole to give her a few days to breathe, she'd stay away.

Nicole wanted her to feel like she mattered. Like she was cared for.

Waverly actually appreciated it, for a change, someone was actually taking her feelings and thoughts into consideration first. Instead of dictating her every thought, feeling, action… assuming she felt this way or that, never bothering to ask. She unexpectedly felt stifled in the house. Even though the men quietly seated on the couch were minding their business, she felt like she couldn't breathe. Her lungs turned to stone and the walls grew tight, steadily engulfing her.

She had to leave.

Waverly threw a jacket on with great haste, marching out the front door, making a beeline for the property line.

Despite the fact she couldn't leave the protection of the ammolite, there were plenty of rolling acres to wander and many corners to escape to that were just as safe as the house. She kept moving, allowing her mind to work on autopilot, her feet carrying her along a familiar hidden path. She stumbled on a few rocks, but kept her hurried pace. She desperately needed to get away.

Once she slowed, Waverly lowered herself to her knees, inhaling the cold air deeply, her lungs on fire.

“Please, God,” Waverly cried, allowing her emotions to finally consume her. “I know we don't talk. That I have no right to ask you for anything. Bu-but _please_ help us.”

Numbness spread throughout her very being, tears running slowly down her cheeks with no sign of stopping.

“I beg for you to make this stop. Please...”

Waverly curled in on herself, unable to control her sobbing, only the wind answering her sorrowful cries.

 

“Are…” Nicole paused, “are you positive, Wave?”

“Yes,” Waverly repeated, gripping the redhead’s hand tightly, “I want you to meet my mother, Nicole.”

They sat in Waverly’s Jeep outside the Homestead, Waverly looking as gorgeous as ever, Nicole still in uniform, dark circles accentuating the bags around her sleepy brown gaze. Waverly looked up, a bit too cheerful for her liking. Damn, she needed to get a good night's rest soon, Nicole thought. She shouldn't be paranoid over her girlfriend's random happiness.

“Uh,” Nicole stifled a yawn, “okay, baby. Only if you're sure.”

“I am.” Waverly confirmed strongly, nodding slightly. “As sure as the sun shines.”

“Mmm,” Nicole mumbled, leaning in to peck Waverly’s cheek, instead resting her face against Waverly’s collarbone, “can't argue with that logic, because, my girlfriend is the smartest person I know. She's the smartest person on the whole freaking planet.”

“Nicole.”

Nicole grinned against Waverly’s skin, waiting to see how long she could get away with ignoring the brunette.

“Nicole Haught,” Waverly sighed. “I swear you're such a child sometimes.”

“I prefer the term ‘immature’, thank you very much.”

Waverly giggled, using her free hand to poke the side of Nicole’s neck, squealing when Nicole went limp on her.

“Hey,” Wynonna interjected from outside Waverly’s jeep, voice muffled, “I should arrest you two for indecent actions in a vehicle.”

Startled, Waverly released a cry of shock and braced her hands against the steering wheel, blaring the horn. For the first time, Nicole raised a fist to the window, middle finger extended at Wynonna.

“Someone's a little… Haughtheaded today, eh?”

“Whatever, Wynonna!” Nicole shouted, raising her head, glaring with bleary eyes, “You're one to talk…”

“Shit,” Wynonna blurted out quickly, “Red, you- well ya look like shit, honestly. Not feeling too Haught today?”

“Waverly,” Nicole grumbled, whipping her seatbelt off, pushing the door open, “if it weren't for auntie privileges, I'd be murdering your sister right now…”

“Oh,” Waverly laughed, pushing her door open suddenly, attempting to hit Wynonna to no avail, “trust me, it's the only reason I haven't just shot her myself.”

“I'm going to pretend I have no idea what you're talking about!” Wynonna called across the jeep to Nicole, “Seriously though, our food is probably so cold that Walt Disney will have a nice meal upon awakening from his nap in the deep freezer.”

Nicole rolled her eyes, trudging alongside Waverly as they followed Wynonna up the steps of the Homestead, nervousness creeping up her spine suddenly. Waverly’s hand drifted towards her, tangling their fingers together in a reassuring hold. Nicole squeezed her girlfriend's hand briefly, nervously running her thumb against Waverly’s in what she hoped was a comforting motion.

Wynonna entered first, Waverly tugging Nicole in after her, leaving the redhead to awkwardly close the door behind them.

“Of course,” Michelle Earp remarked upon seeing Nicole, “of course you'd be datin’ a cop, Waverly.”

“That's no cop. That's Deputy Sheriff Nicole Haught,” Wynonna corrected her mother, “that's who's dating Waverly.”

Nicole and Waverly both scrunched their eyebrows, pulling the exact same facial expressions, looking at the other in confusion.

“Hm,” Michelle squinted at Nicole, extending a hand, “nice to meet ya, Nicole.”

 

Once they finished dinner, it was far past sundown, Doc and Dolls were nowhere to be found, the house too quiet once the polite banter died down. The four women gathered in the living room, a fire crackling, each with their preferred choice of drink to sip on.

“We really should be going, Nicole had a long day at the station, unfortunately.”

Having heard her girlfriend utter the sentence, Nicole stood from her spot wedged between Waverly and Wynonna on the couch, stretching her legs. She bent down, sliding her wine glass onto the small coffee table, sighing as she straightened her back again, the joints cracking loudly under the pressure.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Earp,” Nicole said, forcing herself to smile at the woman, “it was nice to meet you.”

“It was a pleasure, Nicole.”

“Goodnight,” Waverly murmured to her mother as she ushered Nicole towards the door, “I'll see you later.”

Wynonna simply lifted her beer bottle in acknowledgement of their imminent departure, giving it a slight shake in their direction. Waverly pulled Nicole quickly out the door, snapping it closed behind them.

“Are you alright?”

“I'm just fine and dandy,” Waverly replied, no traces of dishonestly in her voice, “you really do look like hell, Nicole. I'm gonna take you home now. Unless...”

“I don't have my cruiser, baby.” Nicole reminded Waverly, closing the distance between them, “I'd get a citation for driving a civie to work.”

“Can't say I don't try,” Waverly sighed playfully, running a hand up Nicole’s forearm. “You do look exhausted, Nicole.”

“I am.” Nicole answered with a small chuckle, allowing Waverly to pull her in. “Tough day at work.”

Waverly cupped Nicole’s jaw, standing on her toes to meet her halfway, their lips colliding. Waverly kissed Nicole slow and tenderly, pouring her pent up affection into it, lightly caressing the redhead’s face once she pulled away. Nicole sighed, leaning into Waverly’s smaller frame, kissing her one more time, pulling the brunette close.

Once they broke away, Waverly silently led Nicole to the Jeep, the girlfriends getting into their respective sides, Waverly geared the engine to life, pulling out and peeling across the driveway.

Little did they know, a pair of red eyes observed their interaction from the darkness of the fenceline where the ammolite left the land unaffected, watching the red Jeep’s headlights fade into the darkness of night.

“Perfect… it's just as Bobo said.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my wips are Unbeta'd, I apologize for any mistakes I missed while editing.


	4. These Demons, How Sweet They Sing

Nicole found herself in the bathroom at her current crime scene location, locked in a stall, dry heaving into the oval-shaped porcelain bowl of the toilet. Slowly recovering to push herself forth on weak legs, she shuffles to the mirror, stumbling back immediately. She could have sworn her eyes were blazing red. Throwing her head side to side in an attempt to wake herself, she only managed to increase her distortion of the world around her.

“I can't do this,” Nicole told herself quietly, splashing her face with cool water, not as refreshing as she liked, but it would work for now. “I'm going crazy already. Seeing signs of… _them_ everywhere. Can't sleep ‘cause of the dreams… no wonder Wynonna’s drunk every hour of every day.”

If she were honest, she only ever felt at peace in Waverly’s presence, preferably snuggled up beside the brunette in her bed at the Homestead. She didn't have to worry about stray Revenants breaking into her house, hell, she was allowed to not be on guard 24/7 there because of its protection and occupants taking turns watching for any trouble. She knew the way she had been living for the past month- perhaps longer- had not been healthy in the least. Nicole lived her life as a paranoid shut in now, unable to sleep, constantly waiting for another member of the the cult of Bulshar to come a-knockin’ at her door again, knowing she'd definitely be toast if and when they came to claim her dues.

She couldn't help feeling that way when it appeared events that could lead to the death of the person you loved most were tied to you and your past. Most days she was called to crime scenes for what appeared like a random killing, but she knew. She could tell when they were sacrifices to Bulshar, by the position of the body, a little too much precision on the stabs. The kicker with this one were two white roses, hastily placed where the victim's eyes used to reside, and instinctively knew the one pleading their fealty was a human, asking for the gift of immortality as part of Bulshar’s dark court and a guaranteed one way ticket straight to hell for becoming a demon.

She wrote down personal notes, quickly logging all her official ones, speeding through her interview with the poor park ranger that found the fellow, the man clearly disturbed by the sight.

Once Nicole settled into her cruiser, she snatched her phone from the seat, dialing Waverly’s number by memory, her free hand gripping the steering wheel tightly. She prayed the phone wouldn't go to voicemail.

“Hiiii, Nicole,” Waverly greeted brightly, and Nicole could hear her beaming from the other end, “what can I do for you?”

“Hey, baby,” Nicole responded gruffly, “may… may I come over today and see you?”

“Sure,” Waverly agreed, sounding excited, a mournful laugh escaping the brunette, “not like I have much to do, with Wynonna and Mamma hovering every five seconds, everyone watching me all the time…”

“Okay, good. I need to see you today because this involves what's going on… sort of.”

 

She had been pacing so much, she was surprised she didn't wear a hole into the carpet of Waverly’s room, her feet thudding grimly against the floor in a silent drumbeat to accompany her equally grim thoughts. Waverly sat patiently on her bed, her brows furrowed, clearly worrying.

Nicole stopped pacing, turning to Waverly, she sat beside the brunette and told her the truth of her past, her sins she so earnestly and desperately wished and prayed to forget. Almost everything. At least the important things for the moment, expressing her extremely real and disturbing fears about her safety, what her life could entail.

Waverly stared blankly, no sound coming from her, nor any movement. Nicole stared back, barely daring to breathe. Panic caused the redhead to look on with poorly concealed anxiety, tapping her foot against the carpet swiftly.

She had omitted some details for a good reason, like her mother believeing Bulashar to be her father, which was obviously impossible. That's where Nicole drew the line at the woman being even more batshit crazy than she had been. It's why she ran away. Honestly, she was surprised the woman simply appeared to vanish from Purgatory all together. She didn't care much for her mother's disappearance, though. It meant in the long run, she had one less crazy citizen to cross off her list she had yet to deal with, a list that felt like it grew very minute spent idle.

“I- I just told you that I'm some fucked up murder-child,” Nicole prodded hastily at Waverly, confusion clouding her mind in the fog of a massive headache, brows knitting together harshly, “that grew up for the first part of her life in the cult that's currently hunting YOU down, no fucking less!”

Waverly came to life again, brushing their fingers together, she scooted closer to Nicole, subtly opening her arms to the woman sat across from her.

“Oh, baby,” Waverly finally murmured sweet and gentle, a comforting tingle of warmth ran across Nicole’s being, sincerely looking up at the redhead, “I- I know you're so tired. I must admit, I'm definitely shocked. Although, I understand the situation a little better now. But that doesn't mean I have any rights to judge you, nor any reason to, Nicole…”

With their gazes still on each other, Nicole finally collapsed upon the smaller woman, the last pieces of her reserve breaking, she released a quiet sob of distress, her entire body started trembling with her cries. Waverly threaded the fingers of one hand through Nicole’s fiery mussed locks, guiding the crying woman's face to the crook of her neck, her other hand gripping tightly at the back of the officer's shirt, pain swelling in her heart. She whispered what she hoped were soothing words in nothing above that tone, placing her lips to Nicole’s temple, leaving them there to murmur against the skin.

Nicole cried, warm tears dripping onto Waverly’s neck and shoulder, murmured things back to her, but mainly her distress and grief were pouring out, the floodgates to her heart wide open. She was exhausted. So tired of everything. And told her girlfriend as much. Waverly held her throughout the whole process, reassuring her in a low tone she could stay as long as she needed, they would protect her. Waverly promised to help Nicole with her burdens.

Somewhere along the line, they sprawled out across Waverly’s bed, Waverly curved halfway up the headboard, lounging, Nicole stretched out fully over the mattress, her arms wrapped tightly around the brunette’s waist with her face smashed unconsciously against Waverly’s abdomen in lieu of a pillow.

Waverly stared at Nicole, processing their conversation over in her mind, she lightly ran a hand through her sleeping girlfriend's hair, thankful to observe each deep breath she took.

“Hey- oh, God, are you dece-”

“Wynonna, of course we are,” Waverly reprimanded urgently, her blue eyes meeting Wynonna’s quickly, “shhhh!”

“What…” Wynonna mumbled, her eyes landing on Nicole, fast asleep, “for a minute there, I thought she might be a vampire from the lack of sleep and shit.”

Waverly giggled, faint terror suddenly creeping into the back of her mind, wondering what the others would think if they found out about Nicole’s past connection to the Bulshar wackados that were popping out of the woodwork with his return. She feared for Wynonna’s reaction the most, her blood chilling at the mere thought of what her older sister may say and do upon discovering that tidbit of information. _If_ she discovered it. Wynonna would claim Nicole to be a liar, that she must have been using them; and if she didn't kill the redhead, she'd sure as hell make sure she never so much as looked at Waverly again. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach at the idea, firmly deciding this would be something she couldn't have a loose tongue with. She couldn't afford to share this with _anyone_ , even the walls had ears, after all.

 

“Bulshar,” Bobo began- still as scraggly as ever, probably a new fashion statement for him- giving the man a low, overly-dramatic bow, “I must start by remindin’ you how I'm forever grateful that you rescued me from that damned well Holliday chucked me into.”

Bulshar remained silent, his red eyes flicking across Bobo momentarily, slight boredom entering them when he gazed at the hunched man, his stare demanding respect.

“H- how…” Bobo stammered inquisitive, his posture and tone almost identical to Egor in the old black-and-white Frankenstein films, “how do you p-plan on finding yo-your heir, s-sir?”

“Simple,” Bulshar told Bobo plainly, his red eyes staring off pensively into the horizon, one of his hands set upon the trunk of a nearby tree. “The child shall be bearing my ring. A handy little thing that the one possessing the mark of my lineage, my powers, cannot be rid of. It'll follow them until the day they die. Now, where is my wife, Constance, and our sons? I'll be needing their powers for my army as well, alongside my chosen heir, Robert.”

Bobo swallowed harshly, cowering even lower to the freezing, sleet-covered twigs, leaves, and dirt than he had been less than a minute ago, pondering how he would talk his way out of this situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, I apologize for any mistakes I missed when editing. Also, I try to beef out my WIPs like this: A) Trying to not make them similar. B) Setting a different tone and pace for each one. And C) Attempt to make as much sense as I can within it. 
> 
> I'm not great at this stuff, so I hope that's been clear for you following my two other stories. Lol
> 
> P.S.  
> Thanks for all your support, you wonderful humans. :)


	5. Evil's Got a Hold on Me

The bodies appeared to be piling up. Nicole couldn't stand the sight of so many pleading fealty to Bulshar. She feared for her friends and her little family. They were outnumbered by far. By everything, it seemed. The supernatural community could tell the boat was sinking and they all scrambled like rats on the deck to assure they were on the winning side. Plus, the whole Earp thing meant Wynonna, Waverly, and Michelle were eternally screwed, fate cackling at their current turn of events. Fate had a great sense of humor, Nicole bitterly thought. Waverly revealed her mother came clean about her true heritage. A half-angel. Nicole wanted to cry. Waverly was honestly too pure for her, she had the blood of an original holy warrior running through her veins. It all made sense. It wasn't as diluted as any preacher or missionary. She had one full, solid half of heaven instilled within her. Which also baffled Nicole, she had learned angels usually weren't allowed to interfere directly with the what they referred to as the flock’s affairs, but this was Purgatory, after all. It made sense as to why Bulshar sought her out. A direct pipeline to the man himself. Who wouldn't want guaranteed access to heaven? A soul? Power beyond imagination? Or so they all speculated. It's why they salivated like dogs, gnashing their fangs, eager to hunt the pure, holy beings down.

Nicole leaned against her cruiser, taking her time as she filed her current report, her stomach twisting uncomfortably at the double homicide within one of many local gas stations. The bodies were a gift, not pleading or begging this time, but left in gratitude. For what, though? What had Bulshar done for the poor soul? She didn't want to know. The thought of actively seeking out the man, quite frankly put, frightened the shit out of her. He was to be feared by all, if not revered. He had one goal: make Wyatt Earp’s descendants pay for his crimes. By any and all means necessary. If building the entirety of Purgatory against them was the key to winning, he would do so.

She pushed herself from the vehicle, tossing her pen and notepad into her open window, the skin on the back of her neck chilling suddenly. Goosebumps raised across her arms uncomfortably, as she became totally aware of a pair of eyes trained on her. She glanced at the massive figure, halting. His eyes gazed down at her, a strong jaw, his dark brown hair neatly framing his tan face, familiar eyes she came to love deeply stared back curiously and observed her intently. The same eyes that belonged to-

“Waverly…” Nicole breathed in recognition of Julian, completely awed by the presence of Waverly’s father. She felt like he was blinding her. His existence tremendously powerful, overwhelming, even. “Why are you here, angel?”

Their gazes never shifted, but she suddenly felt the urge to recoil from his stare, a deep part within her knew herself to be vastly unworthy of this rare encounter. He didn't answer, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone as swift as he arrived. Nicole retreated into her car, eyebrows arched downward in bewilderment, hands trembling against the steering wheel. What was that? Did he know who she was? Of her past? Could it perhaps have been a sign? A warning? A threat? A hysterical chuckle tumbled forth past her grim mouth, she was dating his daughter after all, maybe it was his version of the shovel talk. What a shovel talk, indeed, if she were to call it such.

Pursing her lips, she ran a hand through her hair. What to do, what to do. Working on autopilot, she drove, familiar scenery passing her window, she pulled up to an opening, parking her cruiser, exiting the vehicle with great haste. She began her trek, her feet traversing the path laid before her at a hurried pace, wondering how she'd bargain with the trickster demon. A glittering light caught her attention, her vision focusing on her hand… if she gave it to him… Nicole shook her head, placing her hands on her hips, glaring at the well. It was a risk she decided was worth taking. Her shaking hands gripped the splintered wood tightly, shoving it back a few inches.

“Bobo,” Nicole called into the darkness, “I've… I've come to make a bargain with you.”

She was met with deafening silence, peering into the blackness of the well. Something wasn't right. He wasn't the most sane these days, but he sure could chatter up a storm. It was irrevocably his best and worst trait, Nicole thought.

“You're a bit too late,” a voice commented from behind her, startling the redhead, “for he has already made several with your father, young one.”

Nicole’s blood ran cold, her bones chilling, her muscles seizing in horror. It couldn't be. She refused to believe it. She released the mallet of wood, one hand on her pistol, slowly pivoting on her heel.

“Mother,” Nicole hissed, gripping her pistol in a half-cock, raising it at the woman, “I have hoped and prayed to never see you again.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” her mother tutted, disapproval lacing her low voice, flicking her hand casually, an invisible force slammed the redhead into the stone well harshly. “Come now, Nicole, that's no way to address the woman who gave birth to you, breathed life into you, cared for and raised you.”

Nicole’s head spun, black splotches splattered across her vision painfully, the metallic flavor of blood leaked into her mouth, her teeth digging violently into her tongue. She glared up at the older woman, a mixture of anger and terror mingled in her brown gaze.

“So it was _you!_ ”

“Of course,” Eleanor Haught replied, her burning eyes watching Nicole, a smirk curling her lips, laughing at her daughter's naivety, “you, my child, act as if you don't know me.”

Nicole made to grab her discarded pistol, yelling when it flew from her grasp, directly into her mother's.

“Don't even think about it, Nicole.” Eleanor reprimanded, turning it on her, the woman's free hand outstretched in her daughter's direction. “Handcuffs, now.”

Nicole acted as directed, her heart thumping loudly in her chest, helplessly tossing the metal cuffs at her mother. Eleanor approached slowly, maneuvering the cuffs around her daughter's wrists, the metal bit at Nicole’s skin lightly, causing her to wince.

“Now,” Eleanor told her daughter, hauling the tall redhead from the ground with ease, “it's time you met your father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Apologies for any mistakes I missed when editing.


	6. The Devil and Me, Walkin' Side-by-Side

"Bulshar," Eleanor uttered loudly upon her entrance into the rundown commune, wild flowers and vines sprouting through every crack exposed in the walls and floor. Nicole winced at the sheer volume of her mother's voice, and her head pounded in defiance of the abuse she took upon her encounter with Eleanor not even an hour ago. The older woman carelessly tugged her daughter alongside her into the all too familiar chamber set before them. "I have brought your heir, as promised."

Nicole feebly struggled against her mother's grip again, the darkness of the chamber engulfing her. She could feel the damp air, soaked in the stench of mold begin weighing her chest down, gasping for air in a cough. Her heart beat wildly against her ribcage, the ring upon her finger seared her skin, vibrating in anticipation of its master's return. She dug her fingernails into her palms, unable to focus her gaze. As she fought to stand, her mother pushed her forward, causing her to come tumbling onto weak, unsteady knees. Nicole gritted her teeth together with a low hiss, her kneecaps pounding harshly against the steps of the cold, stone altar; a swift wave of pain radiated through her legs upon contact with the unforgiving surface. She still did not dare turn her gaze upwards to the owner of the polished shoes before her, while unbridled terror ran throughout her entire being at the thought of her current situation, no escape, exit, nor rescue in the foreseeable future.

"My child," Bulshar rasped, his deep, unrelenting croon pierced Nicole's soul, as an involuntary shudder ran down the redhead's spine at the slick voice. "All shall be well. Stand, my daughter."

Nicole kept her head bowed, her limbs began to move in a haze, she was just a puppet on a string now. Listen or wish you received death, because what Bulshar's wrath could inflict upon you was a fate far worse than leaving the world of the living. She stood before him, her eyes trained to the ground, her remaining willpower dwindling. She was so exhausted. All the fighting hurt. Everything ached. Constantly running, only to follow the invisible hook reeling her back to Purgatory. She was lost her entire life, leading up to this point...

"Nicole," Bulshar said, taking the redheaded woman by surprise, her brown gaze suddenly turning up to meet his blazing eyes. She instantly felt like a little girl again, under the eyes of a knowing adult, unable to lie. "I can sense just how broken your soul has become. You cannot seem to find rest for your weary being... stop fighting this. It is your destiny."

"No," Nicole replied faintly, her hard gaze shining with fear and exhaustion, "I can and will be a better person than either of you are."

"My ring upon your finger says otherwise." Bulshar continued, throwing a cool gaze towards her, despite his fiery stare. "Deny now, stall the inevitable, my dear girl. Although, you've already witnessed the changes, haven't you? Felt the spark of the fire burning deep within?"

Nicole silently grinded her teeth together, vehemently shaking her head, refuting his curiosity.

"Yes, yes you have," Bulshar insisted, a smirk washing over his face. "Come closer, young one."

Nicole released a sob, her body no longer obeying her will to keep her feet planted to the steps of the altar, approaching the demon slowly.

Bulshar silently ushered her in his direction, extending his hand to her, taking Nicole's right hand in his grasp. The ring upon her finger began to glow brightly, rejoicing in their reunion, the vibrations sending warm licks through her veins, her blood boiling with familiarity and power under the touch.

"Allow the fire to ignite, Nicole. My heir, take your rightful place at my side. The flame shall put your weary soul to rest, if only you accept it. You shall not fear death nor pain any longer. You shall be the one to bestow such a gift upon the mortals, the holy warriors, even your kin." Bulshar told her, his blazing eyes excitedly gazing into hers, while the heat continued to radiate in her bloodstream. "Borne out of the flame and the cursed soul of a mortal, the fire burns mighty within you, and you will be able to harness its full potential, my child. You are of both worlds. Which we will rule once you grasp your fate."

Nicole found herself collapsing into her father's arms, his strong hands grounding her to reality. He continued to mutter into her ear, promising her a perfect world, one where she and her lover would never be gazed upon with disgust or hatred, where her little family could live out the rest of eternity in peace. At a cost, of course. As with any good thing, a price must be paid. And that price so happened to come in the form of one Wynonna Earp. He told her the Earp Heir was the last barrier between Nicole and her lover, the curse holding her family back from their perfect world. Bulshar explained that he himself couldn't rid their land of the Earp Heir at the moment, condemning Wyatt Earp for that, but Nicole was more than capable of carrying out the task for him. In fact, her mixed blood allowed her to seamlessly bypass the ammolite-warded land of the Earp Homestead without consequence, proving her to be the perfect candidate for the job. Once the last Earp heir was killed, the Revenants could go back to their lives in Purgatory as they were and reclaim their homeland and her birthright once more. She only had to fight through the final war on the horizon.

"Allow me to carry this burden with you," Bulshar muttered finally, his grip tightening, "and rest tonight. On the morrow of the Bloody Dawn, you shall be as you were meant to."

After hearing her father say those words, Nicole allowed herself to no longer fight nor resist the flames thrashing violently deep in her, screaming in a growl at her core, yearning to be released from its torturous prison. Her body prickled hotly at the sensation drifting across her lost being and soul, no longer clashing with a stubborn mind for control. She felt the missing piece within her become complete in the fire washing over her, and as a new sense of power and self bloomed in her, the blazing flames pulled her willingly into the realm of the unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, my unpopular opinion: I did not like how the last episodes and writing progressed up to the s3 finale, I felt like most of the fandom were robbed of a good plotline. Like, Idc if Nicole is human, I love her all the while. I just wish the writers had put more thought into it than they did. It was quite lackluster to me.
> 
> Secondly, my writing software decided to be a bitch on this story and the rest of my WIPs, lock me out of the rough drafts, and delete all my outlines and force me to work on what I can vaguely remember for them. I'm pretty miffed, to say the least. >:|


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